


Whiplash

by Octarine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Quadrant Confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octarine/pseuds/Octarine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re thankful that the next person to enter is Dave; if it had been Kanaya the smudges of white on your skin would be recognized for what they truly were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiplash

“Back again?” You murmur curiously at his sudden appearance. His eyes flicker to you from where they were locked on the door, dangerous and sharp, animal-like. He slid from the duct like a snake, movements smooth, and you had watched with a strange sort of fascination, taking in the way his shoulder blades worked against his shirt, the way the muscles in his arms tightened, how he dug his claws into the carpet. He narrows his eyes, slipping the rest of the way out of the duct so he may stand, not to his full height of course, he still slouches but makes his way over to you like a cat. “This is a bit brazen of you, don’t you think?” You continue when he doesn’t respond. “Kanaya’s room is just down the hall, she is usually here with me though, you shouldn’t-“

“I don’t _care_.” He seethes and you frown, closing your mouth. You watch closely as he slinks towards you, yellow eyes narrowed behind the black hair that has fallen in front of them. He’s not as loud as usual, maybe he cares more than he’s admitting, or maybe today is just a good day for him, his mind a little clearer. For whatever reason, you find yourself hoping for the latter.

You’ve realized by now that there are only three people who have seen him this whole time. You asked Dave and he had told you that he hadn’t seen Gamzee, not since the time they first met. So that means his Moirail, Kismesis, and you are the only ones. You aren’t quite sure what that means at this point.

You soon realize, though.

He reaches out to you, his movements not exactly slow but certainly purposeful, and his fingers curl around your wrist. You jerk slightly at the touch, your own fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle in your hand. He pulls and you allow him to move into your line of sight, knowing better than to try and fight it, his head dipping so his face is too close to your own, eyes level, his breath cold against your lips. You take him in, never having been this close to him before. His hair is surprisingly untangled you notice, vaguely, but then your mind goes to Karkat and you aren’t really that surprised anymore. You think he keeps opening his scars on purpose though, a thing that you find a bit disturbing and you wish Karkat would do something to change, because like it or not Gamzee Makara is interesting to you, threatening but still one of the last enigmas left after years spent here.

You’re afraid to speak so you let him slide his hand along your own, nails dragging against your skin gently, surprising you again. He takes the glass from you, setting it on the table with a soft clank that seems to ring through the room, still quiet compared to your mixing breath.

You gulp but still do not pull away. “Gamzee…”

And then he is jerking you closer, rough, hand tight on your wrist and other hand grasping your shoulder even tighter. You take in a sharp breath, a shrill noise coming from your throat that you couldn’t keep in, and then his lips are on yours, cold and rough, trapping any other noises threatening to slip out. You are too shocked to move, a cold sense of dread seeping into you, your stomach tying itself up in knots, and the arm curled around your waist keeps you where you are. He kisses like he’s angry, like he hates you, but the hand creeping up your back is oddly gentle. You shove at his chest, regaining your wits, twisting your head away. “Gamzee!”

He curses, his voice a pleasing rumble but his words sharp and cold. “Rose…” He tries to kiss you again but your hand comes over his mouth.

“I thought you were black for Terezi.” You huff, trying to take a step back. Your knees feel weak and your legs wobble beneath your weight, the only sign of how afraid you really are.

“ _I am_!” He snaps and you quickly shush him, hands fluttering around his face, afraid of him but also afraid of what would take place if he were found. “I am…” He mutters, a pout coming to his lips. You’re officially experiencing whiplash. A few more curses and then, “I’m red for you.”

Yes, whiplash is probably the only way to describe how you are feeling right now. It is probably, also, the only reasonable explanation for you allowing him to kiss you again.

This time, though, it is soft and chaste, platonic, but undeniably uncomfortable. And it strikes you that these are the only ways he knows how to kiss, perhaps, how he kisses Terezi and how he kisses Karkat. Something about that makes you feel a little warm inside, the knots undoing themselves though it takes a moment and you still feel uneasy.

The next time you take his face between your hands, though they are shaking, and press a kiss to his lips, one that’s not so sweet but not so angry. He rumbles in consent, pressing forwards, but you push him back.

“Gamzee, I’m not sure...” You’re not sure how to put this, that’s what you’re not sure about, but he seems to know what you’re about to say before you say it, pulling away.

“It’s okay sister,” he murmurs, withdrawing. “ _I all up and_ -“

“Gamzee!” You hiss, covering his mouth and he growls against your hands. “Hush! I know you feel the need to yell,” you tell him, eyes darting to one door and then the other. “But Kanaya will hear you.” When you look back to him you find his eyes trained on you, a softness there you’ve only seen when he’s looking at Karkat. It makes you blush, pulling your hands from his too-cold skin. He doesn’t smile, Karkat let slip long ago, in one of those moments of need, that he’s not smiled the way he should since he went downhill. But there is a twist to his lips, a cold thing, it’s still there, though, that’s what counts.

He slinks back to the duct, glancing at you over his shoulder before slipping into the maze once more.

You go back to work, unable to truly focus, hands still shaking slightly, and instead of trying to make apple juice you find yourself mulling over what exactly is in the “sopor” you’ve heard so much about.

You’re thankful that the next person to enter is Dave; if it had been Kanaya the smudges of white on your skin would be recognized for what they truly were.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I... I don't even know what to say. Sober!Gamzee is obviously not my forte. I am sorry. omg


End file.
